Morning

"Morning," about two parents consumed with grief from the loss of their young son, takes little time to expose the rawness of its emotions.

In a memorable opening sequence, Alice (Jeanne Tripplehorn, in the best work of her career) makes love to her husband, fights with him, begs him to stay, makes threats to him, physically hurts herself, and then moves out - all in a few minutes' time.

Alice is a woman in a haze, slowly but surely putting herself and others in peril. We can sense that she desperately wants to reach out for help, but is woefully incapable of doing so. It's a brave, compelling performance that anchors the film.

Written by Leland Orser (Tripplehorn's husband in the movie and in real life), "Morning" doesn't explore a lot of uncharted emotional territory, and some of its talented supporting cast gets squandered with underdeveloped roles. But Orser, to his credit, never resorts to psychobabble, cheap sentiment or emotional shortcuts.

This important quality is evident when Alice meets with a grief counselor (Laura Linney, good as always). During their riveting scene together, no life-changing advice is rendered, and Alice struggles to make any sense. The conversation is basically nothing - and everything.

On the surface, this may seem like a bleak film, because it's so raw. But ultimately this is a movie about the mysterious ways in which we find a path toward healing, and its beautiful final moments stay with you.